


Petticoat or Crinoline

by Asexuallaw



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femlock, Joan Watson - Freeform, Like Doyle but not as good, POV Joan Watson, Victorian Sherlock Holmes, Victorian Wives, lesbian detectives
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 14:31:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7271980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asexuallaw/pseuds/Asexuallaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Which one fills me out more?”</p><p>“Oh, I do wish you'd stop all that nonsense, Watson. You are beautiful in either.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Petticoat or Crinoline

**Author's Note:**

> A take at a Victorian era fic
> 
> Also just an excuse to write Victorian lesbians ;0

“Congratulations, Miss Holmes. Another case solved. And in the knick of time as well.”

Her gloves are pulled tighter around her wrists. They complimented the maroon shawl that my companion wore over her shoulders, and matched the divine gown which bore a brownish colour. I myself enjoyed the lighter coloured dresses, such as peach, with tan crinolines. She did not seem amused, if anything quite bored of the whole situation. A hat sat atop and crookedly on her soft dark curls, and if it were not for the black veil which covered her face, the Yarders would see the truth of her emotions. But of course I could see it just fine, and I could not help but let an amused smile befall my features. 

She turned to me then, one eyebrow raised diligently. Her blue eyes turned much softer upon meeting my gaze, and I could only raise my own brows.

“I'm sure Watson will receive a percentage of the credit as I have. After all, if it weren't for her clever observation of the previous victims toe tattoos on the corpse, you all would be cleaning up a crime scene right now.”

“Um, of course. She deserves it.”

“Really, Holmes,” I say, pushing my obvious flattered tone aside. My corset shifted uncomfortably under my waist coat as a looked at my companion. “That is not necessary.”

Sherlock let out an amused laugh that seemed to fill the air around her. “Of course it is, my dear Watson. In fact you deserve more credit than these pathetic excuse for detectives.”

“Holmes!”

“Do be quiet, Lestrade. It is not my fault you run an organization with brainless apes. A lot of them couldn't tell the difference between a sleeve and an engageante were they not being smacked across the face with both fabrics at the same time. Now if you'll excuse us, Watson and I have other businesses to attend to.”

I grabbed my umbrella from one of the Yarders, Miss Donovan her name was, and bid the rest farewell as I made to keep up with Sherlock. We did not get very far, however, as a harsh voice called out to my partner. She turned bitterly at the man who addressed her, and put her hands together. The man was the victim, the one Sherlock had saved not ten minutes ago. He looked coldly at my partner, eyes sunken and tired.

“Miss Holmes,” he started. “If you were my wife, I would never allow that kind of behavior.” I knew he had fancied her, what man doesn't? But this was much too far. “I'd put you over my knee and give you a proper spankin'.”

I could not tell what expression Sherlock had, since she turned her face away from my eyesight. But even still I was able to make out the faintest of smiles on her delicate cupid bow. She turned to face the victim and let out a rash sigh.

“I do believe I'd soon rather jump into the Thames and drown myself than be the wife of some disgusting drunk. A male one at that.”

“Nothin' wrong with a few drinks, Sherlock.”

Smack. Right across the victims face. Sherlock sneered as he rubbed his cheek, and painfully spit out a tooth. I could only stand back and watch, and try very hard not to laugh, as badly as I wanted to.

“You will address me as Miss Holmes you filth. Thanks to you I have to buy a new pair of gloves. There is everything wrong with a middle aged man who indulges himself with alcohol on a daily basis. It's rotted your teeth and made you look like a pig. You cannot see the true beauty this world has to offer, only what your drunken mind wants you to. My heart lies with someone you, nor anyone else, will never be able to compete with.” 

Sherlock swiftly lowered the hat further onto her forehead and turned on her heels. “To Baker Street, Watson.”

“I'm coming, Holmes.”

Quickly I picked my skirt up in my hands and rushed after my companion. She had already taken the liberty of hauling us a cab. The horses whined and stomped about as Miss Holmes and I climbed into our ride back home.

* * *

“Sherlock, I need a second opinion.”

When I enter the living room, I am met with the sound of a violin, and the sight of my flat mate. She has chosen to strip of her walking around clothes and put on a more comfortable outfit; trousers that stopped at the knee, an evening blouse, and suspenders that held the trousers up. Her infamous blue dressing gown was draped over her frame, and she had put her beautiful hair into a braid.

“Look at them, Joan...” she took her violin bow and placed the end of it against the glass of the very dirty window, the same one she stood before and looked out of. “Bustling about, making a life for themselves...it's all so very dull. I'm thankful we're not like that.”

“Mm, suburban lifestyle doesn't suit you well, I agree. I've got a dinner date with a friend of mine-”

“Stamford?”

“-yes, that's right. Darling, turn and face me.”

Upon my request, Holmes obliged, setting her instrument down on its stand and catching my eyes.

“I want to look good for Stamford. We're discussing means of a raise at Bart's, so that's why we've chosen a restaurant over a pub. So, should I go with the petticoat or crinoline,” I ask, holding up both for her to see. “Which one fills me out more?”

Sherlock was quiet for a moment, her gaze faltering between each fabric I held in either hand. Then she sighed, letting her arms fall to her sides. “Oh I do wish you'd stop all that nonsense, Watson. You are beautiful in either.”

A tint of pink brushed across my features and I felt as if there were butterflies dancing in my stomach. “You always have such kind words, Holmes.”

“Always...but only for the most beautiful maiden in all the land,” She purred, coming up to me and putting a soft hand against my cheek. I sighed contently and placed my own hand over hers after setting the clothes down, losing myself in her eyes.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

“Plenty of times. Last night, for example. Mr. Hudson is washing those sheets now, dirty girl.”

“Holmes!”

Sherlock smiles, leaning down to kiss my forehead. Her fingers find their way tangled in my blond hair and I shiver at the contact.

“I've been thinking,” I interrupt, pulling her hands away in favor of holding them in my own. “The other day, when we solved the Eddie brother case. The last would be victim, when he hit on you, so to speak, and mentioned marriage...well, it's been making me think about it as well. This is a very hard period of time, and it'll be almost impossible to get a pastor and legalization, but your sister is practically the entire British government, so I thought-”

“Yes!”

“...yes?”

“Yes, Joan...I will marry you.”

 I can hear the wedding bells already.


End file.
